


At The Place You Died

by phoenix089



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century
Genre: Angst, Art Inspired, Drabble, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix089/pseuds/phoenix089
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two and a half years have passed since the Fall, and John isn't coping. Everyone thinks he's going to be fine - That it'll pass. Everyone is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At The Place You Died

**Author's Note:**

> This was a quick something I had to write because of this; http://oooyooo.tumblr.com/post/16134924297

Two and a half years passed before John was able to even _look_ at St. Barts again. The last time he was even close to the hospital … His best friend had hurled himself off the rooftop, so John rather thought that avoiding the damnable building had been a perfectly acceptable response.

Today however. Today was the day John broke that habit.

A breathless laugh bubbbled up from his lips as he opened the door. You would have thought after such a prolific figure as _The_ Sherlock Holmes commited suicide by jumping off their rooftop, they would have upped the security on the place. How wrong he’d been.

John had never been so glad to be wrong though. In a daze, he walked right up to the ledge and looked over. Nothing. There was absoutely nothing to seperate him from the pavement below.

Grinning almost maniacally, he tossed his walking stick down and heaved his tired limbs up onto the ledge.

 _I’m sorry_ , he sent a silent apology to Harry. He distantly wondered how she’d react when she was told about this. Probably just drink another glass of whatever her choice of poison was that night.

Really, he didn’t care how she’d react. Nobody understood. Nobody could grasp the concept that John couldn’t function without Sherlock there anymore. Nobody could see it. They all thought he’d get over the death and get on with life.

Sherlock had been right about everybody being idiots, of course. He’d been right about everything, hadn’t he?

John felt a brief moment of regret for Mrs. Hudson - She’d been the only one who seemed to have some semblance of understanding about what he’d gone through these past years - and then John rose his arms up to mimic the final pose that he’d ever seen Sherlock wear. To be sure, John wouldn’t look anywhere near as dramatic as Sherlock had that time, with his coat billowing out around him. But, John had never been prone to drama the way that Sherlock was.

With a smile, John closed his eyes. Soon, he would be able to tell Sherlock all those things he’d wanted to over the years. Soon, he’d be able to demand answers. Soon, he’d be able to berate the idiot for leaving him alone - He should have known that John wouldn’t be able to cope without him.

Just as John was about to lean forward, let gravity take hold of his body and drive him to the ground below, there was an unexpected growl behind him.

“Don’t. Don’t you even _dare_ John.”

The shock from hearing that voice nearly made John slip and fall, and he probably would have, had it not been for the hand that gripped his arm and pulled him back down from the ledge.

Suddenly, there were arms wrapped around him, and John’s face was forced into a solid chest.

“What were you _thinking_?” that voice hissed, and John thought that there was a terrified hitch to the words. But, since his mind was still caught at the fact that Sherlock’s voice was anywhere near him again, he couldn’t be sure.

He simply gave himself over to the shuddering gasps that wrenched free of his throat, and the shuddering of his shoulders as hot tears stained an immaculate purple shirt.


End file.
